Heroes: A New Generation
by TheRingOfFire
Summary: Title isn't very good, since it's not another generation. Anyway, this is Heroes with new, cool characters, powers, and a different apocalypse in a different city. Rated T for safety


Heroes: A New Generation

_2:02 A.M. (Eastern)_

_Philadelphia, Pennsylvania_

_Israel, Grace, and Edward Frey_

_-_

"Is there such thing as sleep?"

A somewhat broad, but run of the mill in height, man turned over in his bed. His Quiff hairstyle could not have possibly stayed in place with his tossing and turning.

"Israel, I told you to get those insomnia pills, didn't I?"

"Mm."

"You can complain, but you can't answer me?"

"Yes, Grace, you told me to get the pills, and I didn't listen, and you were right, and I was wrong…"

The woman, a narrow and small girl, turned over in the bed so she was facing Israel.

"You know I just want what's best for you."

"I know. But everytime I go to sleep… I have dreams: dreams about me lifting up North America and sending it into space, or making the desert countries masses of quicksand by making it rain. It's disturbing, to say the least."

"Then get that dream specialist, that friend of mine. Don't you remember him?"

"I'll give it a try."

_

* * *

Twelve hours earlier (Eastern)_

_Philadelphia, Pennsylvania_

_Uday Samara_

_-_

"And that is how Howard Carter found Tutankhamen's tomb."

Clap, clap .

"Oh, great Scott, look at the time, children, it looks as though my time here has run out. I'd like to thank you for inviting me to your classroom today."

"Thank you, Mr. Samara. Class, what do we say to Mr. Samara?"

"THANK YOU."

Uday walked through the door, chuckling to himself. His increasingly tan face wrinkled. His plump belly jiggled like Jell-O. His broad shoulders shook. In fact, his entire small figure quivered. A pack of sixth graders were always easy to please with some story about an archeological dig. The shiny floor tiles reflected the splotched of light on the blue and green hallway. Clank, clank sounded his orthopedic shoes as he approached the double doors leading out to the busy streets of Philadelphia. Bashing his face like a deadly foe, the extreme breeze caught Uday by surprise. It surprised him so to a great extent; in fact, so much that he did not notice the two teenagers with metal bats in their hands walk toward him.

"Well, well, well, lookie here. It's Mr. S. Hiyah, Mr. S."

"Eh? Oh, hello…Robert and Jamie, was it...yes, yes, Robert and Jamie Skolinski. How are you doing?"

"Oh, I've been feeling bad, but I'll be much better soon."

"Oh…really? Er…what…uh…what are you planning to do with those bat?"

"I don't know, Jamie, what were we going to do?"

"I think we were going to bludgeon Mr. S. for failing us in History, right, Rob?"

"I thought so."

Jamie advanced, a sinister look in his eye.

"Want to play 'Tag'? Whoever gets hit by the bat…dies."

"Oh, well, would you look at the time? I've…I've got to RUN!"

And Uday turned around. Robert reached out for his coat. When Robert's hand clamped down, though, he found nothing. Jamie looked down the street in awe as a brown blur about the size of Uday made its way down the street and around the corner in mere microseconds.

_

* * *

10:02 P.M. (Eastern)_

_Philadelphia, Pennsylvania_

_Brianna Carpenter_

_-_

"Sir?"

A tall, gaunt man with a bald haircut and piercing black eyes in a loose-fitting hoody and saggy cargo pants jerked up.

"Huh?"

"May I help you, sir?"

"N-No."

The man resumed mumbling to himself once more. The teller, a small and plump (but young) woman, merely shrugged. She had more important business to attend to. The man glared at her, sort of twitched, and moved on to the next teller.

"Excuse me."

"Yes, sir, what would you like to do with your bank account? Or are you signing up for one? I can…"

"Shut up."

"Excuse me?"

"Shut up, and put the money in the bag."

The gaunt man pulled out a sack, along with a gun.

"DEAR GOD, I SAID PUT THE MONEY IN THE BAG!"

Terrified, the bank clerk could not take action.

"ARE YOU DEAF? I'LL BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT IF YOU DON'T PUT MONEY IN THE BAG!"

"Sir, please calm down. My name is Brianna. Take the gun away from Mary's…"

Too late. BAM ! The teller in the booth fell down. Her brains, as the robber put it, had not been blown out. He had horrible aim, and had instead shot into her cheek.

"LOCKDOWN!"

Protective bulletproof cover slid over the tellers' space while the very few people in the bank ducked for cover or ran outside. The attempted robber wildly ran to doors. They were locked. As the robber struggled, some of the innocent and possible hostages slid into lockable rooms. Brianna, the bank clerk next to the one who had been shot, opened up a small door in the barrier that separated that would allow her to go into the wounded woman's space. Blood gushed like a waterfall. It was almost unbearable. Brianna knew an ambulance would be needed, for sure. Almost like in a trance, she put her hand over the area where the bullet had penetrated. To her amazement, she watched the cartridge pop out, the bones resettle in place, the muscle re-grow, and, finally, the skin attach itself over the spot. It looked as though nothing had happened.

"Brianna? Brianna, do you think Mary…Dear Lord Almighty! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! How…how did you do that?"

Brianna could not respond.

_

* * *

11:02 A.M. (Pacific)_

_Kerman, California_

_Noah Walker_

_-_

"Noah?"

A hazel eyed, between average and tall, and narrow boy let one sleepy eye flicker open.

"What?"

"Noah, I had the bad dream again."

A small, plump boy no older than six with brilliant (and terrified) green eyes and a haircut similar to a bowl cut, but not quite, stood quivering with trepidation.

"Ugh…sit down, Jack."

The little boy sat down on the bed. The moon surprisingly glistened on the teen's crew cut. Perhaps it was the skin underneath.

"What was it this time, Jack?"

"It was the bad man again. The one that makes big booms. He points his finger at something and BAM! It's gone. This time, he turned to me. He put up his finger. And then I woke up."

"Listen, Jack, it's only a bad dream, right? Go back to sleep. It's eleven o'clock."

"11:02."

Tired, the teen did not recognize the child's preciseness.

"Yeah, yeah, just go back to bed, Jack."

_

* * *

5:58 A.M. (Eastern)_

_Pottstown, Philadelphia_

Pascal Clovis, IV, and Carolina Dawn Francois

_-_

"Barrel?"

"Yeah, Rascal?"

"Do you see that gruff-looking man over there?"

"No."

"I didn't think so."

A tall and muscular man with airplane wing-like hair sprouting from his head, grayish-blue eyes, and a small, but angular, nose sat up in his bed, staring at an empty spot in the doorway. His wife, a somewhat smaller (but still tall) and thin girl with long, curly hair, green eyes, and a small, button nose, looked at him with concern. They were still in bed. The room around them was to some extent decorated with paintings and bookshelves.

"What…what does he look like, honey?"

"He's tall. He's emaciated, I should say. His eyes…are so black, like it's only the pupil. He's wearing a red hoody and cargo pants. He's…fidgeting? It looks like he's got something in the oversized pocket on normal hoodies. He's bald, too."

"Honey, did you drink anything yesterday? Because if you did…"

"No, I didn't. What are you staring at, baldy? Leave."

"Are you sure you're okay, Pascal?"

"Yeah, Carolina. I'm fine. I'm…HEY! Put the gun away. Put the gun away. Put THE GUN A…"

Pascal flinched. He fell back onto the bed, almost like he was shot.

"Pascal? PASCAL!"

"I'm…fine."

"What happened?"

"Baldy shot me. In the cheek."

_

* * *

8:57 A.M. (Eastern)_

_Philadelphia, Pennsylvania_

_Israel Frey_

_-_

"Mr.… Frey, is it?"

"Yes."

A woman, average in height and weight with glasses, piercing purple and gold eyes, black hair, and an angelic face, sat in a swivel chair, wearing a gray business suit.

"Ah, I see you're Grace's husband. What's the problem?"

"Well, Doctor Smith…"

"Please, call me Jane."

"Er…Jane, I've been having some…bad dreams."

"Oh, really? What kind?"

"I…I control the elements. I make cities lift from the ground. I make it rain. But everytime, it's for a bad cause."

"Elements, hm? This case should be interesting. Mr. Frey…"

"Israel."

"Israel, have you read this book? It's _'Activating Evolution'_, by Chandra Suresh. It's a book about people with superhuman ability, such as flight or spontaneous regeneration. Most of these people don't know they have the ability until a point in their lives. It may come instantly. It may come slowly. It seems as though this ability has been sprouting simultaneously lately. You never know where you'll find one."

"Oh. That's quite interesting. Chandra Suresh must be a very interesting person."

"He WAS an interesting person. Until he died."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Israel, Chandra Suresh thought he had everything in that book: however, he did miss some key things. For instance, the hero might never have the power come out to its full extent. The hero might also have dreams, representing something that has to do greatly with them."

"You can't be really saying…"

"Israel Frey. That's a funny name. What does it mean?"

"Well, Israel means 'Wrestled with God'. Speaking as you are, that might mean that I'm wrestling with God's choice of my fate. Frey means…"

"Yes?"

"Frey means 'God of Weather'."

"I think it might be more than that. Mr. Frey, if you experience strange…occurrences, please feel free to call me at anytime."

"Thank you?"

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Author's Notes: Well, that's a… chapter, I guess. I hope someone out there liked it. Please review and give critique! Please? Pretty please? Oh, and I'm happy some of the characters were able to show off their powers.


End file.
